


The Merits of Fleshglue (and Other Flirting Techniques)

by nottonyharrison



Series: Clone Wars Prompts and One-Shots [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Flirting, Shout out to Bly's thicc booty, This escalated quickly, just a couple of gals being pals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28885509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nottonyharrison/pseuds/nottonyharrison
Summary: The point is, men will never expect you to pull out a blaster when you’re wearing a low cut top, but even galaxy saving espionage isn’t worth almost losing your nipples
Relationships: Padmé Amidala/Aayla Secura
Series: Clone Wars Prompts and One-Shots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2118354
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	The Merits of Fleshglue (and Other Flirting Techniques)

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from [theshadiertwin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheShadierTwin/pseuds/TheShadierTwin): Padme talking with Aayla about clothes (use those misogynist perceptions of you to your advantage, ladies!)
> 
> I know nobody will read this because there's all of five fics in the Padme/Aayla tag but I have hope! This will eventually probably become a part of the [Of Duty](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28106355) canon, but for now I'm just sticking it in a Clone Wars prompts series. Feel free to [swing by my tumblr and put a prompt in my inbox!](http://nottonyharrison.tumblr.com/ask)
> 
> Quick note, I usually write in present tense as a matter of habit, and I think I've caught all my slip ups in this but let me know if I missed something!

“So I’m wearing this dress,” Padmé said as she leaned over to top up Aayla’s glass from the carafe.

Aayla waved her off. “Oh, no I shouldn’t,” she said, and placed her hand over the glass. “I’m suppose--”

The other woman raised her eyebrow and gave a withering look, and Aayla removed her hand. Padmé poured more wine.

“So I’m _wearing this dress,_ ” she repeated. “Which honestly barely covered my nipples, I’ve never had so much fleshglue on my tits in my life… _anyway_. It would have worked if Lott Dod hadn’t figured out the whole ruse and poisoned me.” Padmé took a sip of her drink and leaned back in her chair. “Next thing I know I’m in the ship with a throbbing headache and Anakin staring at my chest like he’s never seen a woman before.”

Aayla chuckled, and tipped her glass. “To be fair, I do sometimes wonder. That boy knows his way around a droid but I wouldn’t trust him with my cooch.”

The other woman twisted her lips in a wry smile, and Aayla raised her eyebrows. Padmé cleared her throat and set her glass down. “Anyway, the point is, men will never expect you to pull out a blaster when you’re wearing a low cut top, but even galaxy saving espionage isn’t worth almost losing your nipples.”

Aayla burst out laughing, and Padmé held her glass to her chest and stared down into it, shoulders shaking in her own amusement. “I really shouldn’t drink this, you know,” Aayla said once she’d calmed down. “I’m supposed to be protecting you, not getting hammered and swapping war stories.”

Padmé waved her hand and tipped her chair back on it’s legs. “Consider it keeping me sane. Being a senator is a lonely existence sometimes. At least when I was queen I could sneak out and leave one of the girls in my place”

Aayla nodded. She could empathize. She may never have been a queen, but the Jedi temple had certainly offered more opportunities for shenanigans than being a General in the Grand Army of the Republic. “Do you ever miss it?” she asked.

Padmé looked over at her, and frowned. “Being queen? Goodness no.” She tapped at her glass and took another sip. “I mean not a lot has changed really, it’s just endless politics and assasination attempts, but at least now I can sit down without needing a whole team to adjust my skirts.” She gave Aayla a cheeky grin. “What about you? Do you miss being a padawan?”

“Sometimes but then… we were never meant to be warriors. This is the first time in months I’ve done something that even remotely aligns with my teachings.” Aayla shook her head, and pushed the thoughts of battle and loss from her mind before looking back across the table and pursing her lips. “But then, I also occasionally get to walk in on Bly and his glorious ass so the bad trades off with the good, I suppose.”

“I would think carelessness isn’t something bred into the clones’ cocktail,” Padmé replied, eyebrows raised over her glass.

“Oh, he’s fully aware the lock on his door is unreliable.”

Padmé gave her a mock scandalized look, and leaned forward, the front legs of the chair hitting the carpeted durasteel with a thud. “Goodness, General. Don’t tell me you’re encouraging fraternization?”

Aayla tilted her head and ran her tongue over her bottom lip. “Bly’s a big boy, he knows he’s not allowed to touch,” she said, running her finger around the rim of the crystal.

“How about anyone outside the GAR?”

Her eyes drifted to Padmé’s, and she blinked slowly. “Depends who’s asking.” 

Aayla knew she was playing with fire, the conversation had gone from friendly bitching about the state of the woman’s clothing industry, to something far more flirtatious rather quickly, and her stomach fluttered. This wasn’t some harmless eyefucking over a holotable that could never amount to anything. This was Senator Padmé Amidala, former Queen of Naboo, and currently the only other biological being on a ship that was going to be in hyperspace for at least another twelve hours.

“What if I’m the one who’s asking?” All trace of mirth had disappeared from Padmé’s expression, and she instead held the intense look of someone with a singular focus. Aayla gulped.

“I um…” she stuttered and cleared her throat, suddenly unsure of herself. “I was under the impression you had a certain um… friendship with--”

“For someone who’s perceptive enough to infer my relationship with General Skywalker, you sure are dense, Aayla,” Padmé interrupted. “There’s only so many months one can go with an empty bed, and frankly, had I met you before I met Anakin I wouldn’t have been so subtle.”

Aayla gulped. Her brain searched for a clever reply, something that screamed _yes, YES PLEASE_ _,_ but also didn’t make her seem like someone who wanted to get involved in the ticking time bomb that was what she and Obi-Wan had begun calling _the coupling_. “You’re not being subtle now,” she blurted, and cringed internally.

Padmé stood, and skirted the table until she was leaning against it right next to Aayla, close enough to smell the human’s citrusy perfume, and the soap still clinging to her freshly laundered dress. Padmé pushed the glass away, and took its place. “Fuck subtle.”

And it wasn’t that Aayla was inexperienced. She’d had plenty of opportunities as a teen to explore her sexuality, but she’d never done it with a human woman, so when Padmé’s lips slammed into hers, she was surprised at how warm and soft they were. Then she was surprised at the tiny bumps that broke out all over Padmé’s skin. Then she was surprised at how much she wanted to find out what was under that skirt, if it was anything like what she had in her pants.

So Aayla groaned into the other woman’s mouth, tongue hot against hers, and pulled away before grabbing Padmé around the waist and tugging her into her lap. “Yeah, fuck subtle.”


End file.
